you to the time before the instant of crea-
tion. Only forward at the multitide of let-
ters that follow the 'bet.' Do you see how
significant every letter is? It's said that
there is not one letter or vowel in the whole
ibrah that is superfluous."
But Ben is leaning back in his chair rub-
bing his e;res.
You know, Rabbi, I've met a lot of dames
in my time. Lots of pretty girls with long
tender legs. Gentle girls who appreciate a
man with a firm grasp and a fine cigarette.
This little story of yours wouldn't get me
to first base with any of 'em. Might even
get me a pop on the chin. How about your
wife, Rabbi? Does she go for all of God's
mumbo-jumbo? Or is she a lady of the
world? The kind that wears diamond
necklaces over black silk evening gowns.
Would she wear a diamond necklace?
Would she wear a diamond necklace that
was stolen from the pocket of a dead man?
The big man in the sky doesn't look kind-
ly on such women. But I suppose you know
that. After all, you're a Rabbi.
Worse than opening your eyes to find
moving road would be opening them to
find oncoming headlights. Such headlights
shone from behind the rabbi's glasses.
"Your mind seems to be elsewhere, Ben.
What are you thinking about?"
"I was thinking that maybe we could go
through the 'Ibrah and you could tell me
what the shape of each letter means."
"Well, that's not really what I had in
mind for today but- "
2
"Okay. We can just do this stuff. What
were you saying?"
The ever-patient rabbi closes his book
and says, "Forget about this for a minute.
I'll tell you a little story." It seems poten-
tially long, but potentially interesting so
Ben settles himself into a more comfor-
table position. "A great and righteous
man'
"They all start that way, you know?"
"Excuse me?"
"I'm sorry. Go ahead."
The rabbi takes a deep breath and starts
again. "A great and righteous man named
Shimon Hagadol was visiting a small town
on the coast of Europe when suddenly a
tremendous flood filled the whole area."
"Oh, I know this one. He builds an ark,
right?" They both smile.
"No. He gets carried away by the water
and it's all he can do to keep his head above
the surface. He struggles and struggles
and the whole time he keeps saying to
himself, 'I will trust in God and He will
save me.' After ten minutes a rowboat ap-
pears and offers to take him in. He refuses
to get in. He says, `I can wait. God will save
me.' After another ten minutes goes by, a
motor boat appears and offers to save him
from the waters. Again he refuses and says,
`If I am meant to be spared, then God will
save me.' Finally, after he's been in the
water for over a half an hour, a helicopter
appears overhead and drops him a ladder.

Over the roar of the rotors he shouts, 'My
life belongs to God. If it is his will that I
be saved then He will save me.' The chop-
per leaves and 20 minutes later the man
drowns."
"He dies! I don't believe it! That is the
worst God story I have ever heard. Why
didn't he get saved?"
"I was just getting to that. After the
man dies, he goes to heaven and is met at
the gates by the angels." Here the rabbi
begins to do voices for his characters to en-
sure that Ben stays with it. Strangely
enough, all of the rabbi's characters sound
like Ben's uncle from Brooklyn. "He says,
`I demand an audience with God.' And
then, from out of nowhere, God's voice
booms out, "Iell me what's on your mind,
Shimon. `You know I was just drowning
down there?' You're asking do I know?' So
nu,' Shimon says, 'maybe you were just too
busy to save me?' 'Ibo busy! What are you
talking? I sent you a rowboat, I sent you
a motor boat, I even sent you a heli-
copter: " The rabbi looks to Ben's face to
gauge his reaction. The phrase 'tabula rasa'
comes quickly to his mind and he hurries
to elucidate. "You see we're always waiting
for some . . . some . . . some I-don't-know-
what to come down and say, 'Look! There's
God!' The world isn't that simple. We have
to look for God in all places and try our
best to find Him. There are things that
show us God's beauty without . . ."
You're right about that, rabbi. This is not
a simple world. Take Lola the showgirl. I
don't mean take her, after all you're a rab-
bi. But, for example, Lola. Her legs are
more beautiful than a baseball game, but
she's starting to get pimples on her nose.
Is that the way God intended it to be? I
only ask because of my tremendous in-
terest in theology. Can I get you another
Scotch?
". .. though it's never black and white, of
course. Do you find that more interesting
than what we were studying before?"
With the utmost seriousness Ben replies,
"Actually, I think they're equally in-
teresting."
"I get the feeling you're trying to avoid
our lesson."
"No, I'm sorry. Let's talk about the
drowning man."
"Okay. What about him?"
"What if he got on the boat. Or the
helicopter. Then his whole life he'd never
know that God had saved him. He could
think it was just a coincidence. Or a really
efficient Coast Guard."
"What about faith? Can a person just
have faith in God?"
"I don't know. How can you just have
faith?"
"Okay. There are many arguments why a
person should or should not have faith. In
the case of . ."
You're a lucky man, Rabbi. In three more
minutes I'll be out of your house. But that
doesn't mean I won't be around. I'll be

watching you even when you think you're
most alone. In a dark alley on a quiet night
just turn around and look into the
shadows. I'll be one of those shadows.
Because I know your story. It was you that
broke into Miss Candor's house and stole
the jewels. Murphy was on your tail and
when he finally caught up to you in San
Francisco he made the mistake of stealing
the jewels from you instead of turning you
in. He was sure you'd buy them back from
him. It was greed. Plain and simple. There
are three things that can ruin a man's soul.
One of 'em is money.
Murphy set up a meeting with you
to sell back the jewels. When you realized
he was dumb enough to bring them with
him you bumped him off and left with the
necklace. What you didn't count on was
that Murphy had told me quite a bit that
night before he left. Then the call came
through that Murphy was dead. When I
found out the necklace was missing I put
two and two together and came up with the
only logical conclusion: Rabbi Blockman.
You've got nothing on me, Ben. I could
call the police right now and have you
charged with` harassment.
You could, but I notice that you don't.
Why is that Rabbi? Why don't you want a
bunch of policemen at your house? Is there
something you don't want them to find?
Maybe something hidden in your bookcase.
Behind some not-so-innocent binding.
You've got no right to look through my
books! This is private property, you know! -
What is there to be worried about? If
you're innocent then I won't find anything.
But if you're guilty. . I might find this.
Ben tears the diamond necklace' , from
behind an empty book jacket.
But. . . but. . . how did you know?
You're a clever man, Rabbi. Luckily, so
am I. When I walked in I noticed you had
an open copy of Ttventy Talmudic Tales sit-
ting on the table with phone messages
dating back two weeks on top of the open
page. Next I noticed that it was the only
book on the desk without a book jacket.
I've been searching your shelves all night
for this. The book jacket for Threnty
Talmudic Tales.
It is at this point that two things hap-
pen in rapid succession. The first is that
Ben begins to hear theme music that goes
along with his narration. The second, and
perhaps more significant, is that Ben
becomes suddenly aware of the fact that
no one has said anything for at least a
minute. The rabbi is sitting perfectly still
with his eyes on Ben and a soft smile play-
ing about his lips. There is an awkward mo-
ment. Then Ben jumps out of his chair,
points to the wall behind the rabbi, and
shouts, "Rabbi, look! There's God!"
Without losing a bit of his smile, the rabbi
turns to the wall and by the time he turns
back, Ben has bolted from the study.

❑

Michael B. Greenfield is a junior at the
Johns Hopkins University Writing
Seminars.

THE DETROIT JEWISH NEWS

97